be expected. Scared and now pissed, needing some answers.
“Curious,” he said.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She glared at him. “You know, I’m getting tired of this. My whole life has been a bunch of unanswered questions, and now this madness happens. I’m tired. Tired of the nightmares, tired of being scared and if you can’t answer my questions, you might as well just go back to your corner and leave me alone. Oh, and thanks, by the way.”
Thanks?” he asked, confused.
“For protecting me, both times,” Chantal said.
“It’s what I do, who I am.”
“What you do? Who you are?” she yelled. “I want answers. Are you going to tell me what is going on or do I figure this out by myself?”
“Hmmm, are you ready to hear the truth?” he asked.
“Ready? It seems to me that ready or not, you know more about me than I know about myself, so answers are what I need.”
“Fine,” he said, moving to stand in front of her. She instinctively took a small step backward, but didn’t retreat. He followed her gaze fixed on the “blood” left behind on his jeans. Bravery, he noted. Even scared, she demanded the truth, another attribute of her kin. “What do you want to know?”
“Who are you?”
“Well, I believe you call me Nick, though I’m quite curious as to why.”
“I don’t know. It just popped into my head.” He shrugged in response, taking her explanation with no more question. “How long have you been watching me?” she asked as she lowered her gaze that had trailed up from his stained jeans, briefly taking in his bare chest causing her to blush.
“You know the answer to that one.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“As you’ve seen today, you are in need of protection.”
“Okay, but why? Who is the boy? Why is that thing trying to kill me?” She looked up and threw her arms out in frustration.
Nick sighed, pulling a black cloth from the back of his jeans. He cleaned off his blade with one steady motion, and then sheathed in into an invisible scabbard at his hip. The sword disappeared, almost as if it had been put away into another realm. He wiped away remnants of the Seeker off his chest and his jeans, but her next question halted his attempt, causing him to pause and look over at her again.
“What are you?” she asked.
“I am a Protector,” Nick said, stepping back and leaning against the table to give her more space. “I am part of a race that is fathered by The Fallen: Warriors from Heaven who chose to follow a path other than the righteous one.”
“What do you mean? Are you talking about Angels?”
“Some lore called them that. We just know them as the Fallen. They selfishly left Heaven’s serenity, wanting control and power for their own. Their leader, a creature known as the Evil One, believed his realm of domination should be on Earth. He brought his followers here to claim it as his own.”
“So you are a child of a fallen angel and what, a human female?”
Nick nodded.
“Fifteen of the Fallen broke away from the Evil One, seeing how he turned Earth into nothing but sin and torment, corrupting souls, turning that which was meant to be beautiful into filth and decay. They called themselves The Contrites, and there are only three left that we know of.”
“What happened to the other ones?”
“They were killed,” he answered, his beautiful eyes reflecting an old sadness. “When the Contrites separated from the Fallen, they initiated a war. Without a chance at being allowed back into Heaven for their betrayal, they decided to fight against the evil here on Earth as their benediction.”
“They found pure women, taking them as their brides. Each gave birth to a new breed of warriors.” Nick stood and held out his arms. “We are all born with the gray skin of our fathers, and a mark like this one.”
On the inside of his right forearm was an intricate design, the coloring close to the ink of a tattoo yet different in clarity. Dark wings
“Curious,” he said.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She glared at him. “You know, I’m getting tired of this. My whole life has been a bunch of unanswered questions, and now this madness happens. I’m tired. Tired of the nightmares, tired of being scared and if you can’t answer my questions, you might as well just go back to your corner and leave me alone. Oh, and thanks, by the way.”
Thanks?” he asked, confused.
“For protecting me, both times,” Chantal said.
“It’s what I do, who I am.”
“What you do? Who you are?” she yelled. “I want answers. Are you going to tell me what is going on or do I figure this out by myself?”
“Hmmm, are you ready to hear the truth?” he asked.
“Ready? It seems to me that ready or not, you know more about me than I know about myself, so answers are what I need.”
“Fine,” he said, moving to stand in front of her. She instinctively took a small step backward, but didn’t retreat. He followed her gaze fixed on the “blood” left behind on his jeans. Bravery, he noted. Even scared, she demanded the truth, another attribute of her kin. “What do you want to know?”
“Who are you?”
“Well, I believe you call me Nick, though I’m quite curious as to why.”
“I don’t know. It just popped into my head.” He shrugged in response, taking her explanation with no more question. “How long have you been watching me?” she asked as she lowered her gaze that had trailed up from his stained jeans, briefly taking in his bare chest causing her to blush.
“You know the answer to that one.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“As you’ve seen today, you are in need of protection.”
“Okay, but why? Who is the boy? Why is that thing trying to kill me?” She looked up and threw her arms out in frustration.
Nick sighed, pulling a black cloth from the back of his jeans. He cleaned off his blade with one steady motion, and then sheathed in into an invisible scabbard at his hip. The sword disappeared, almost as if it had been put away into another realm. He wiped away remnants of the Seeker off his chest and his jeans, but her next question halted his attempt, causing him to pause and look over at her again.
“What are you?” she asked.
“I am a Protector,” Nick said, stepping back and leaning against the table to give her more space. “I am part of a race that is fathered by The Fallen: Warriors from Heaven who chose to follow a path other than the righteous one.”
“What do you mean? Are you talking about Angels?”
“Some lore called them that. We just know them as the Fallen. They selfishly left Heaven’s serenity, wanting control and power for their own. Their leader, a creature known as the Evil One, believed his realm of domination should be on Earth. He brought his followers here to claim it as his own.”
“So you are a child of a fallen angel and what, a human female?”
Nick nodded.
“Fifteen of the Fallen broke away from the Evil One, seeing how he turned Earth into nothing but sin and torment, corrupting souls, turning that which was meant to be beautiful into filth and decay. They called themselves The Contrites, and there are only three left that we know of.”
“What happened to the other ones?”
“They were killed,” he answered, his beautiful eyes reflecting an old sadness. “When the Contrites separated from the Fallen, they initiated a war. Without a chance at being allowed back into Heaven for their betrayal, they decided to fight against the evil here on Earth as their benediction.”
“They found pure women, taking them as their brides. Each gave birth to a new breed of warriors.” Nick stood and held out his arms. “We are all born with the gray skin of our fathers, and a mark like this one.”
On the inside of his right forearm was an intricate design, the coloring close to the ink of a tattoo yet different in clarity. Dark wings
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